


Happy Valentine's Day, Mr. Spock

by teacuptribbles



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: All The Tropes, Drunk Spock, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Valentine's Day, Vulcans and Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 06:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13676103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuptribbles/pseuds/teacuptribbles
Summary: Spock accidentally consumes chocolate and gets drunk for the first time in his life.  Jim looks after him and is not prepared for Spock's post-pon farr confession.





	Happy Valentine's Day, Mr. Spock

**Author's Note:**

> For spirkonbaby.tumblr.com's #thylaromancemonth challenge.

This situation brought back a memory.

When Jim was growing up, his family had a Border Collie mix named Jilly.  She was sweet, obedient, smart as a whip.  The best farm dog one could ask for.

And though she was not a rule breaker by nature, even she could not resist the temptation of chocolate.  One Valentine’s Day she got into the Godiva box Jim’s father had purchased for his mother and ate every last bit.  One frantic call to the vet later and the Kirk family learned that, given Jilly’s size and the amount of chocolate consumed, she would be fine.  She had, however, tasted chocolate, and there was no going back.  She would seek it out forever now.  All chocolate items were stowed far from her reach after that.  

Spock was like Jilly now, lying on his side, clearly miserable.  He had not intended to put himself in this position.  The sauce on the root vegetables and rice he ate at the Starfleet dinner was heavy in a _mole_ -like Bajoran sauce, and the effect hit Spock like a rogue wave.  He became chatty, affectionate, clumsy, and combative at all once, and Jim--himself slightly buzzed from the champagne--took it upon himself to babysit him in his quarters.

“Jim,” Spock slurred, embarrassed, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Spock.  Please drink some water.”

When they first entered Jim’s quarters, Jim had handed him a large glass of water.  Spock held it up to his lips several times but always became distracted by something.

Jim moved the glass from the nightstand to Spock’s hands.  Spock took a small sip before placing the glass aside.  “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Always, Spock.  You know that.”

“I do not have a mate.”

Jim froze.  He had to remember that his friend was drunk, likely for the first time in his life.  He said nothing and allowed Spock to continue.  “T’Pring did not want me.  I cannot blame her.  Our connection was never as strong as other bonded Vulcans, as I…”

He trailed off.  

Jim sat across from his first officer, unsure of what to say.  Was Spock feeling lonely?  Valentine’s Day had a tendency to do that.  Hell, Jim was feeling it too.  But Spock…

Guilt hit Jim then.   _Of course_ Spock was lonely, and Jim knew that better than anyone.  Seeing the assortment of happy couples at the party couldn’t have been easy on him, despite his insistence that loneliness was a human experience.  Jim knew better than to point out that Spock had a human mother when he said things like that.  

“Most Vulcans are married by my age,” Spock spoke again, pulling Jim from his thoughts.

“Well, you had something...unusual happen.”  Jim had no idea if _kal-if-fee_ was an unusual occurrence, but it seemed like it might be.

And if it wasn’t, their fighting, with legs and arms intertwined and Jim straining to ignore Spock’s erection pressed up against him, was certainly unusual.

Spock tried to sit up when the spins took hold of him.  Feeling this unfortunate symptom of intoxication for the first time, he fell back to the bed with a thump.  Jim reached for him and rubbed his shoulder.  “No.  It is I who am unusual.  T’Pring and I were never compati...compat...compatible.”  

Though Jim knew Spock was struggling, he could not help but smile.  It was not often Spock flubbed a word, and he was so cute while doing it.  

It was no secret to himself or anyone around him that he adored Spock.  Any crewmember caught mocking Spock’s heritage was quickly corrected.  The captain and first officer were good friends, and young ensigns learned that quickly.

But when Jim looked over to Spock’s station and saw him bent over his console, he couldn’t help but admire the length and lean strength of Spock’s body and the way his pale skin contrasted beautifully against his black hair.  He could stare at him for hours.

The only person who knew this was not happy to know it.   _Oh Jim, I don’t need to hear this._

Spock caught Jim smiling at the memory of confessing his feelings to Bones.  “What do you find so amusing, Jim?”

Jim squeezed his shoulder.  “You.”

Spock’s cheeks flashed bright green as he blushed.  Jim let go of his grip.  “I’m sorry, Spock.  You were trying to say something.”

Spock turned to rest his cheek against the pillow.  He suddenly appeared distraught.  “I have been meaning to discuss the incident on Vulcan with you.”

Jim felt warm as his heart picked up speed.  For Spock’s sake, and the sake of their friendship, he had been prepared to forget about Spock’s _pon farr_ week entirely. “It’s okay.  I know you weren’t yourself.”

Spock looked at Jim with those considering brown eyes he loved so much.  He wanted to turn away as every cell in his body told him to grab Spock and press his mouth on his.  

“No, I was not myself.  But I did...I did want you.  That was genuine.”

Jim forgot to breathe for several beats.   _I did want you_.  How often had he imagined hearing that?  How often had he woken up from a dream, wet and flushed, in which those words had been spoken?  

But once again, Spock was not himself.  Spock was pragmatic, detached, introverted.  This was not his Spock’s confession.

Spock took Jim’s hand in his own.  “I’ve never wanted someone before.  I have had fleeting moments, but I never…” He trailed off again as he began interlacing his fingers with Jim’s.  He brought Jim’s wrist to his lips and kissed it lightly.

No one had touched him this way before, so delicately and with such interest.  Seeing Spock kiss his skin and graze it with his teeth was almost more than he could handle.  He shuddered and felt himself harden.  

He pulled his wrist away from Spock’s grasp.  “Spock, we can’t.  We’re both drunk, you especially.”

Spock looked hurt.  “Jim...Captain.  I’m sorry if I have misread--”

“No,” Jim smiled at him, his hazel eyes shining, “you haven’t misread.  I think you know that.  But not like this.  I can’t know that you _really_ want this in your condition.”

Spock nodded, slowly, and pulled a blanket over his head.  “I hate this.”

Jim laughed softly.  “Seriously, drink some water.  It will be the best thing for you.”  

From under the blanket, Spock reached out for the glass and nearly knocked it over.  Jim caught it and held the rim.  “Spock, sit up so you can drink.  Here, I’ll help you.”  

He sat on the bed next to Spock and used Spock’s arm to help him rise.  “God, I always forget how heavy you are.  You don’t look it at all.”

Spock rested his head against Jim’s shoulder.  “I’m not sure if that is a compliment, but...thank you.”

Jim smiled and held the glass to Spock’s lips to drink.  “Everyone has this experience.  The crew will tease you for a little while, but only because they understand.”

Spock, to Jim’s relief, finished the water.  “Perhaps I should have Dr. McCoy list chocolate as an allergy in my records.”

Jim rubbed Spock’s back.  “I think that would be a good idea.”

Spock’s eyes shut slowly, and he fell deeper into Jim’s embrace.  “I believe I require sleep.”

“I’m going to leave a basin by the bed, just in case.”

Spock frowned deeply.  “I hope I do not vomit.  I truly hate vomiting.”

“Everyone does.”  When Jim went to stand, Spock grasped his sleeve.  

“Jim, where will you sleep?”

He shrugged.  “The floor will be fine.  It’s not like Starfleet beds are much better.”

Spock still held Jim by his shirt.  “I cannot allow you to make accommodations for me.”

“I would feel better if I could keep an eye on you.  You’ve never done this before, and I’ve done it...well, a number of times.”

“We could share the bed.”

Jim’s throat tightened.  “I will be fine on the floor.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, casting Jim a look that could almost be considered teasing.  “I will not touch you.  We have done this before.”

It was true.  Out in the field, they had been forced to sleep next to one another before.  Although, in retrospect, _forced_ was a relative term.

Jim smiled with the side of his mouth.  “Alright, since I already know what a blanket hog you are.”  

Jim stood and retrieved his waste basket out from under his desk.  When he returned, Spock was on his side, drifting into sleep.  He removed both of their shoes before sliding next to Spock.  Their backs brushed against one another, separating and joining with each breath.  Jim listened to Spock stir and mumble in his sleep.  There were few things he loved more than being allowed to witness the Vulcan’s more vulnerable moments.  

When Jim stretched to settle into his own sleep, Spock opened his eyes.  “Are you alright?,” he asked, though it was barely audible in his tired voice.  

Jim glanced past his shoulder to view the back of Spock’s frame.  “Yes, go back to sleep.  And happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Spock.”

Bathed in the starlight coming in from Jim’s window, the two of them fell asleep together, not for the first time and not for the last.  In later years, Jim would insist that this was their first Valentine’s Day together, though Spock, always a bit on the unimaginative side, would argue that since they were not officially a couple at the time, it was _not_ their first Valentine’s Day.  

Still, Jim remembered the night fondly.  And a chocolate allergy went into Spock’s medical records.


End file.
